


Of nothing, nothing, nothing — nothing at all

by caught_your_phancy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caught_your_phancy/pseuds/caught_your_phancy
Summary: Apocalypse: (noun) the total destruction and end of the world.





	Of nothing, nothing, nothing — nothing at all

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Archibald MacLeish’s poem: 'The End of the World'

It’s too hot for it to be snowing.

Phil’s making little ripples in the cool water with a drag of his toe. The coolness of it allows his mind to wander back to that one night in February where he and Dan'd talked underneath the faraway stars, feet splashing in someone else’s swimming pool. 

They’re on the first floor of some stranger’s used-to-be home. Phil’s sitting on the window sill, staring at the orange sky above. They don’t know what time it is. They don’t even know what day it is, or what month. They stopped counting how many time’s passed since the blue bled from the sky, revealing the nauseating yellowy orange of defeat.

Phil squeaks as a fish swims past his feet, skimming his big toe with its scaley fin. It’s gone before he even has time to consider catching it. It’s not that he would know how, anyway.  


Dan’s checking the cupboards to see if there’s anything useful. He does that every single time, and there never is.

“What do you reckon they were thinking?” Phil asks. (Or he thinks he does. It’s getting harder and harder to discern his real, aloud voice from the one in his head. Sometimes he switches voices in the middle of a sentence, without realising. Dan’s stopped pointing it out. It’s good for him to spare his saliva. Both of them haven’t touched a drop of unsalted water for over two days by now. Dan had said the dry cracks on their lips would probably bear witness to the complete shut-down of their body soon. Phil'd said nothing.) 

Maybe he’s talking about the people that refused to sign one stupid law that could’ve prevented all of this. Maybe he’s talking about the couple they’d discovered upstairs, empty eyes fixed on the undulating horizon, holding hands, both of them a clean bullet wound at their temple. Maybe he’s talking about himself and Dan.

A snowflake falls down from the thick clouds that are trying to drown out the air and lands on Phil’s ankle.

It’s far too fucking hot for it to be snowing.

Dan sits down next to him, his thigh touching Phil’s, and lets brown mesh into blue. He leans forward to take Phil’s hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Dan is warm and close and for that one, tiny moment he makes Phil feels like everything might be okay. Phil'd slid the cool metal band around his former boyfriend's ring finger precisely for that reason: to make sure Dan would never disappear, leaving him to be all un-okay on his own.

Phil chuckles ever so slightly. He can be possessive now, it's not like it matters anymore. He’s dying, after all. They all are, even if he still hasn’t exactly worked out who ‘they’ are.  


Dan looks up at the beaten sky, sighing, thumb stroking the back of Phil’s hand.

Phil’s not sure Dan even heard his question. It’s the burden that comes with having such a vivid in-head-voice, he supposes. 

Nevertheless, Dan speaks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe they just wanted to see the fucking world burn.”

Phil nods. "Don't we all?" 

"Yes," Dan agrees, "I'm pretty sure that's the whole point." 

"Point of what?" Phil asks. 

(Somewhere, someone screams. The scream only lasts for a couple of seconds, before dying out completely. It leaves a bitter taste hanging in the air.) 

Dan says: "Nothing." 


End file.
